Writer's Block Disease

Happy Sunday!

I don't know what is wrong with me, but I am seriously just sitting here staring at my computer screen.  I have NO IDEA what to write about.  I think this is called Writer's Block and I am not that familiar with it.  Usually, I just write down what I would say to anyone and I am never at a loss for words, so I think this is pretty serious.  Should I call 911?  I think I need to join a linky party STAT.  

I played around with the ole blog last night and updated the "Blogs I Love" list . . . I hope they're still over there because that took a bit of time.  If you don't see yourself, it was an oversight, so just leave a comment.  Please be gentle, though, because I am really sick with Writer's Block.

Also, Hadar just let me know that now that we're DOT COM-MERS, anything that has been pinned from our blogs will no longer link back to our blogs.  This is very traumatic for Hadar . . . I'm trying to be supportive, but it's sort of difficult when it's all her fault.  :) :) :)  She knows I'm kidding.  :) :) :)  I'm kidding!  I know she's freaked out by it.  And by earthquakes.  And she emailed pinterest and I have no doubt that they will listen to her.  I mean, she's HADAR.

I spent the day with my mom yesterday.

She's doing pretty good.

As in, doing pretty good for someone who broke her femur and has apparently been walking around with a hairline-fracture-lesion-or-what-have-you for the last six months or so, and had to have a blood transfusion because of "complications" during surgery.  The complication was that her bone was ROCK SOLID and the ortho couldn't get the rod in so he had to open her all the way up.  Also, apparently, when you lose a lot of blood, they have to put more back in you.

This is getting a little too Grey's Anatomy for me so I'm going to switch the subject.

I had my kiddos write get well notes to her and then I made a book out of it.

One of my little stinkers asked if he could sign his note "Kobe Bryant".  

He was quite disappointed when he found out my mom actually knows who that is and knows that he's not in first grade anymore.

One of my followers/commenters told me to check out this comedian because he talks about emergency room visits and femur breaks.  This is really funny if you have about 8 minutes to kill.  I made mom, dad, brother, sister, and two friends that stopped by watch it.  Thank you to my follower/commenter for showing this to me!! (I have looked back through my comments and can't seem to find who it was -- or I would name you!)

Moving on . . . or Squirrel, I should say.

It didn't rain on our Field Trip!  Hallelujah!  It was actually perfect weather.  And we were inside most of the time so no biggie.  

The best part about the trip is that I had to divide my class into two groups because the field trip people demand small groups.  Aha!  I knew it!!!  29-32 kids is NOT a small group!

So the night before the field trip, I played the "Who do I want in my group and who can I pawn off on the two innocent moms that got finger printed in order to take a group of their own?"  That's a hard game to play.  It seems easy because you think you'd just keep 15 of your best and brightest and most well behaved, but you can't.  I know.  Say it isn't so.  You want to, but you can't.

I have a really good class . . . but, obviously, I had to keep my two kids with special needs, if you can call them that.  They don't really have special needs.  They just take all things literally.  You can't say "eyes up here" or they will spend the next twenty minutes figuring out how to get their eyeballs out of their head to bring up here.   And I kept new boy.  Who is now really old boy, but we still call him new boy.  Well, I don't say it out loud, but some of my kids still do.

My two kids with special needs did great.  No problems.  Just a trip to the bathroom.  I really had to go! 

New boy . . . GRRRRRRRR.

We got back about 15 minutes before dismissal.  Now, THAT is good timing.  I put some Little House on the Prairie on the big screen (that is something else Ladybug can do, although now it is becoming BLURRY and I think I am going to freak out!) and no one made a peep new boy asked when we were going to last recess.  So I sent him to the playground.  Finally, a relief!!!  

Well, that's about it.  I told you.  Writer's Block.  It's pretty bad.

I'm not even sure how to sign off here.

See you tomorrow?

Have a great weekend?

Do you know of a good linky?

I'm hungry?

I don't know.  I simply don't know.

PS  Thank you for all of the prayers for my mom!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



I literally just got the news that my mom is FINALLY HOME.  Hooray!  I am so relieved and happy for her.  She has a lot of physical therapy to look forward to.  Much like the way I look forward to report cards at the end of the year.  

I get to spend the weekend with her and I couldn't be happier!

I feel like nothing is really going on at school.  Which is not true at all.

We've been doing a lot.  Obviously.  It's school.  I'm a teacher.  I have kids in my classroom.  Surely we're doing something between going to the bathroom, laughing at someone's underwear peeking out from their waistband, falling out of our chairs, and leaving jackets and lunchboxes under our desks every.single.day.

So let me think.

Let's see here.

School stuff.


Scratch head.  



Oh!  Here's something.

We've been counting money in math.  Kill me now.  We use "Coin Critters" which I'm pretty sure is what you all call Touch Money out there.  Not sure.  But, Coin Critters are only helping some of us.  I have three groups.  

The Bill Gates Group -- they are experts.  They know their stuff.  They love money.  They will count yours, mine, and everyone else's.  They find any plastic coin that is not picked up.  And then they keep it.  So they have 7 quarters and the kid sitting next to them has zero.

Coin Critters Group -- it's helping.  We're getting there.  But we don't have a lot of confidence.  Is this right?  Is this right?  (I really don't know.  I just had lunch and it was Snack Day and I am super full from the Seven Layer Dip and Cake Pops that I ate so go sit down and phone a friend.)

I Don't Know But I'll Shout It Out Anyway Group -- one little friend in this group told the class (even though he didn't raise his hand, and I didn't call on him, and I hadn't asked a question) that 1 dime, 1 nickel, and 1 penny is 3 cents.  

Like I said, kill me now.

As Farley would say, SQUIRREL.  It's from Up.  I love that movie and if you want to know what my dad looks like, he looks like that man in the movie.  But he's not grumpy.  My dad is very easy going.  He's more like that man at the end of the movie.  

I can't remember the squirrel.  I think I need to see the movie again.  Plus, then, I would know the man's name.  But let's call him Rick.  Or, as my mom would say, Ricky-poo.

********************Big Time Squirrel*******************

We worked on this page for our scrapbook:

This standard covers what people wore long ago.  My partner made this up.  Just made it up.  Like that.  

My kids have never done this much art in all their lives.

I am almost out of glue sticks and I had 2,467 when we started our scrapbooks.

********************Another Squirrel********************

I have been watching reality TV.  

I am almost finished with the 3rd part of the RH of Atlanta Reunion.  I have had a difficult time following a lot of the arguments.  Bleep Bleep and Bleep Bleep make no sense to me.

I am truly enjoying the RH of Orange County.  Vicki cracked me up killing Gretchen and Slade with kindness.  And Alexis' makeup in Vegas?  Oh no.  NO.

I cried when I watched Guilana and Bill last night.  Then I had to rewind the part that made me cry and watch it again.  


Tomorrow we are going on our field trip.  It's threatening to rain.  That has never happened to me before.   We tour a house that is from the "olden" days.  It's very hands on and I don't have to do anything.  I may just stay on the bus and take a nap.  We'll see. 


I'm a dot com.  That's right.  Hadar thought it would be a good idea.  This way, no one can steal my name.  I suppose someone could name their blog "A Tiny Teeny Teacher" or a "Very Small Teacher" or the "Littlest Teacher Ever" or whatever . . . but A Teeny Tiny Teacher is now a dot com.  Are you singing that one commercial that I'm singing right now?  DOOOOOOTTTT COMMMMM!

So . . . while it changes to a dot com officially, I don't have any blogs that I'm following and no one is following me.  Or so it appears.  

But looks can be deceiving so just ignore that and eat another chip. 

Hopefully things will be back to normal in 3 days or less.

Do you need to see my Coin Critters or do you get it?


Mama Mia!

I think I need to start off this post with an excuse.

I might be MIA for a little bit.

I don't know.  But I feel like I should prepare you.

I am busy, busy, busy, and I don't even have children.  So all of you teachers who also mother other people . . . I have so much admiration for you, I can't even put it into words.  And you know me, I tend to have words.  So that's big.

My weekend was turned UPSIDE DOWN when my brother called me.  I had just left the wedding shower and was headed to church.  I knew instantly something had happened to my mom or my dad.  I have no idea why I thought that   My brother and I almost never talk on the phone so I knew it was serious.

Sure enough, my mom fell on plastic while painting in the garage.  For those of you who don't know my mom, that's actually a good example of her character.  Let's put plastic down in the garage.  Wouldn't want any paint to get on that oil spot.  No sirree, Bob.  Not on her watch.  (We like to joke that when we went camping, she always had a mop and a can of Pledge with her in the tent.  Although it was the truth and not a joke.)

So . . . my poor mom fell on the plastic or under the plastic . . . or got her foot caught in the plastic . . . however it happened, she broke her femur.  

Apparently, that's a big one.  The biggest one.  

911 and all that.

I just mosey-ed on over to church.  Shrug.  Oh well.

Not exactly.  But sort of.

I mean, where better to pray, right?  (My dad was holding me off because they were in the ER with no news and I was on standby.  But I was actually sitting.  And then standing for songs.  And then sitting again.  But he called it standby.)

Immediately after church, the hubs and I headed to the hospital.  

Poor, poor, poor mom.  She was in a lot of pain.  She said it was a 9 1/2 on a scale of 10.  And she is one tough cookie so I knew it was bad.  Kidney stones.  Twins.  Gall bladder.  Son.  People tracking dirt in on her new hardwood floors. Daughter.  Fingerprints on her sliding glass door.  Not in that order, of course.  She can take A LOT.  But that femur did her in.

She was really proud of herself for living her whole life and not breaking anything.  I told her we could call it a fracture since that's what my parents like to call the broken arm I had when I was in first grade.  

NEWS FLASH - a fracture is a break.  

But not in my family.  Especially when your parents left you in the backyard with your 8 year old sister to watch you.  All so that they could go on a walk.  Apparently, four young kids under the age of 8 meant frequent walks were necessary.  So they left us.  In the backyard.  In Houston, Texas.  And behind us was the bayou.  It was the late 70s - it's how it was done.  No biggie. Anywho, I fell off the monkey bars and cried and cried and cried.  When they FINALLY got home, they put ice on it, fed me rolos, and told me I'd be fine.  It wasn't until the next day, or even the next day, or even the week after that, a kid at school bumped into me and I lost all sense of where I was and howled like a monster.  So they sent me to the nurse, called my mom, and the next thing I knew, I was getting a cast put on.  

NEWS FLASH - they put casts on fractured bones.  Synonym for fracture:  BROKEN.

I must have been destined to be a teacher from the very beginning because I didn't want anyone to sign my cast.  I wanted to sign it for them in my own printing.  Just tell me what you want to write and I'll do it, I said.

Meanwhile, my mom doesn't have a cast.  Because the rod they put in during her surgery yesterday IS THE CAST.  Ironic, don't you think?

I could go on and on because there's lots to tell, but I won't.  But let's just say that I would rather have been at the hospital with my mom than anywhere else.  She is still there and we are hoping to have her home by Wednesday.  She's in good spirits today.

Today was miserable.  I don't have those kind of days.  But it was.  I faked it, but I didn't want to be there.

All the work I was supposed to do over the weekend didn't get done.  SO . . . 

I must go now.  And I may not even get to read your blogs tonight. So I am super sorry if I haven't left you a comment in two days.  I know.  I hate it, too.  I'm thinking of all of you.

But, most of all, I'm thinking of my mom.  She reads this.  So, mom, I love you lots and lots.  And more and more.  And even though she insists I just had a fracture, she makes the BEST DESSERTS in the WORLD and she spoiled me rotten when I was growing up.  


Agony of Awards

New Blogger?  Hmmmm.  I don't know about this . . . 

I have a wedding shower that I'm off to.  Or a bridal shower.  Or whatever you want to call it.  I'm super stressed about the wrapping of my gift because the bride is the end-all, be-all of creativity and DIY.  And fashion.  And hair.  And makeup.  It's a wonder I'm invited to this thing.  Then we are going to church and out to dinner which basically means today is a day for fun and socializing and worship and food.  Tomorrow will be work.


Lots of it.

I thought I could get started last night.  Ha.

I fell asleep on the couch.  Amid pizza crusts, ceasar salad, and wine.  The only thing I completely finished before falling asleep was the wine.

People, I don't know about you, but things are piling up as the end of the year approaches.  And changing our Open House theme is extremely time consuming.  It's also fun - you should hear my teammates and I screeching and squealing over a new idea that one of us thought of.

But the worst thing I have to do tomorrow is select six kids to give third trimester awards to.

Do you have AWARDS?

Awards are HUGE at my school.  It's always a topic of discussion.  We actually have a COMMITTEE for it.  I'm on the committee.  Which I don't remember signing up for . . . and I believe I got roped into it, much like the duty schedule committee, leadership team committee, SST committee, knocking committee, smiling committee, hosting gossip in my room committee, etc.

We have three Awards Assemblies (one each trimester) and then a gigantic end of the year Awards Assembly.  Some of the awards that we give include Principal's Award (academic), Citizenship, Character, and Teacher's Choice.  The majority of the parents want their child to receive the Principal's Award.  Which is kind of funny because our principal just signs it . . . I am the one who decides who should receive it.  But whatever.

We have fun music playing during the assembly, a "red carpet" (butcher paper), a picture taking place, etc.  We have to send out invitations to the parents way ahead of time.  It's big, I tell ya.

It used to be a lot easier when I only had 20 kids.  Everyone got an award at least once.  No hard feelings.  No drama, usually.  (I have had parents students crying on the benches because their name wasn't called. I told them to knock it off and buck up and be happy for their friends  smile and clap for their friends in support, and to remember that they already received an award).

One year, I had a parent scream at the principal because I gave her daughter a Principal's Award for Writing.  She thought it should have also included Reading and Math and Social Studies and Science and Art and Computers and Talking and Sitting and Smiling and Standing and Sleeping.  True story.  She was DEVASTATED and wanted to see my gradebook so she could compare her daughter's scores with the other students in my class who received awards in those areas.  My principal said are you crazy, you crazy lunatic?  that, unfortunately, that was not allowed and broke privacy laws.  I use this example as an illustration of what awards mean at my school.  

Now . . . I have way too many kids and not enough awards.  


Let's be real - the part of me that wears a crooked halo (sometimes) thinks this is great because every year I have one or two kiddos that simply do not deserve an award.  (Yikes.  I typed it!  Then I debated erasing it.  Erased it.  Typed it again.  My head hurts from this heavy halo.)

But the other part of me (right as rain and straight arrow and all of that - you believe me, right?) feels terrible that I can't give every kid an award.

So tomorrow, I am going to be struggling with my class list as I try to figure out third trimester awards and the end of the year awards. Who will get one?  Who won't?  Who will cry?  Who won't?  Will a parent go to my principal because I failed their child????  THE AGONY.

I give my own awards (in the classroom - no parents) near the last day of school so that every kid DOES get an award from me.  But the parents could care less.  They don't think it's as important as the School Awards.  Ho hum.


How do awards at your school work?  My twin's school doesn't even notify her if her kids are receiving awards.  They have a Celebration of Learning four times a year and if she doesn't stay for it, there's a chance she'll miss her kid getting an award.  But no one ever tells her!!  If that happened at my school, I think riots would break out.  Seriously.

Am I alone in the Agony of Awards?????



I was originally going to get on here and talk about graphing.

But that's kind of boring.  Although, my kiddos LOVE it.  They are dying over it.  Math is so fun and all that.  They love this math and I'm the best teacher ever.  I know, I know.  I've heard that before.  You can continue reading about non-teaching stuff or skip to the bottom and grab the lame freebie I have for you (lame in my opinion, anyway.  It's nothing fancy).

Or, stick around with me and let me tell you the GREAT news!

We got new neighbors!  Next door neighbors!  RIGHT NEXT DOOR neighbors!  And they are normal!

We bought our house twelve years ago and had the BEST neighbors.  They became our best friends.  And then they moved.  Around the corner and down the street, but far enough away that I cried on their front porch when their house finally sold.  We had the best times with them . . . like getting the mail, and waving from the driveway, and taking out the trashcans.

Just kidding!  We did EVERYTHING together!  Lots of meals in our pjs because they were my kind of people!  We still see them, but not as often.  :(

When they moved out, we had all kinds of various people move in. And then out.  And then in.  And then out.

We'll call them interesting people.  Or just people.

One day, I'll tell you the story of how a toddler came through my doggie door and into my house.  A toddler I didn't know.  And he didn't call first, either.

But, today, I finally got to introduce myself to the new neighbors.  They moved in over the weekend, and I saw their car, and their stuff, and their moving van, and their stuff, but no people.

Today was the day!  They were in the front yard!


Her name is Lindsay and his name is Jeremiah and they are really down to earth.

Get this!  Lindsay used to be a teacher and now she's a stay at home mom of three little ones.  Her oldest is in kinder.  We talked and talked.

Jeremiah does what my husband does, more or less.  They talked and talked.  They're going to fix the fence.  

Lindsay gets freaked out if he has to travel.


Plus, I let her know it's a really safe neighborhood.  It's a gated community (yes, ooh-la-la and lah-di-dah)!  I didn't tell her about the time we were burglarized when we were out of town.  I won't tell you about it, either.  I need Lindsay to stay.

Lindsay thinks we should exchange numbers.


I can already see it.  I have a new best friend!  Her name is Lindsay and I'm going to be writing on here about all the shenanigans we get up to.  We're going to get the mail, and wave from the driveway, and take our trashcans to the curb together.  I can't wait!

Also, listen to this!  My cardiologist wrote me off jury duty.  This is no surprise --- he knows how I am.  It's also much better for the judges, attorneys, and people on trial.  Because I'm not really sure that I'm allowed to sing "Jesus Loves Me" while I'm nervous on the stand.

Completely random.  I think this is where Farley would say squirrel, but can I just say that I don't really get that?

Anyways, completely random, but look at this page that we're doing next for our Pioneers unit.

I can't take any credit.  My teammates did this (holla!).  I'm in love with it.  Here's the stationery for the writing portion of this, in case you missed it.

And for those of you who skipped all of the above nonsense, here's the graphing paper.  It's lame, I know.  But we're using it during centers and they can't get enough of it.  I can't tell you how many times I have said dog.  Well, yes, I can.  Four times a day.

Surveys With Tally and Graph Animals

I have some more, but I can't find them all.  And I'm too excited to look.  I am going to go look through the upstairs windows and see if I can see into my new neighbor's house look over my students' writing from today!

See you around the block  blogs!



Well, I lived to tell you about my day.

I got my hair did.  And I actually liked the way she styled it.  Normally, I do not.  That is because on most days, I am just going to school or going home and the bouffant look doesn't really coordinate.  And on other days, the Farrah Fawcett look just doesn't look right on me.  And on any other day, I need to be able to see so the hair hanging down right in front of my eyes doesn't work.  But today -- no need to put it in a ponytail immediately after.  It's only been about eight years, but we're finally getting somewhere (I love the way she does color, though!).

Next, I turned in my contract.  I am thankful to have a contract.  I am sorry for anyone who is in danger or didn't get one or can't get one.  Especially because I know that if that is you, then you think I am a big whiny (weeny) head for complaining about a possible move to fifth grade.  Because I know you'd take fifth in a heartbeat to have your own classroom.  That was me, too.  When I was being interviewed for my first teaching position, the principal asked me if I'd rather have first or fourth grade.  I said, "Either!" (I wanted to look flexible.  Eager.  Like a team player.  Confident.)  Thank goodness he put me in first.

Then I ran through Del Taco because I was hungry.  It happens.  I love their chicken soft tacos.  I don't know what that white sauce is, and I don't want to know, but I love it.

After that, I drove to a far away land for my ultrasound.

The place was NICE.

Sad, though.  Women with no hair.  :(

Nice doctors.  They were hugging patients and all that.  I thought I might have been in the wrong place.  Most doctor places I go to ignore you.  Ask for money.  Cancel your appointment.  You know, your average experience.

I had to go topless.  Unfortunately, no tips today.

The tech did the ultrasound.  We made small talk while we both pretended I wasn't topless.  And then she wrote on me in sharpie.  SHARPIE.  On my boob.  Um, I wonder how long that's going to be there?  And couldn't she have made it more attractive?  And maybe decorated the left one, too, so it matched?  And so it didn't feel left out?

The tech left me there to go show the radiologist.  Then she came back and did the exam again.

I started singing "Jesus Loves Me" which is my go-to song in times of stress or nervousness.  I also did a little rendition of "Rise and Shine and Give God the Glory, Glory."

The tech left again to go show the radiologist.

When she returned, she said the radiologist wanted to do her own exam.  She said not to be scared -- they are just very thorough.

"Jesus Loves Me" wasn't cutting it anymore.

I started doing a little begging praying and repeating memory verses that I know.

The radiologist came in and did the exam for the third time.  Seriously, a dollar bill would not have been out of the question.

I have three cysts.  That's all!  They're nothing.  I don't have to come back and do another peep show for a year. 

PHEW.  God is good.  Thank you for all of your prayers!  Seriously, what would I do without you all?  What did I used to do?  (I think I used to pace around in a padded room with a straight jacket on.)

And, by the way, I'm pretty sure my cardiologist will write me off of jury duty.  He has done it twice before.  He thinks it's too much stress for me.  I agree.  I wish there was a form for him to sign that says report cards are too stressful for me.  Or paying the bills.  Or waking up early.  Or eating my vegetables.

You're all caught up.  Except for the business at school.  There are lots of rumors and I'm pretty sure I'm safe . . . but I will wait until it's official to give you the low down.

Thanks again!  I want to go check out your blogs now.

How long do you think sharpie will last?????



What a day.

I knew you'd ask.

I had a fine day.  It was fine.  We did school stuff.  You know.  This, that, the other.  I don't really remember.

Our entire school is in STATE TESTING MODE.  Except for kinder and first.  We're exempt.  No one seems to care when our District Testing rolls around with the Student Responder Nightmare Scenario . . . but we're all supposed to be there for everyone else.  

And I'm there.  Of course.  I'm in.  I'm happy it's not me, I can tell you that.   All that mumbo jumbo of all words, pictures, symbols, numbers, etc. must be covered up.   Desks have to be in rows.  We even got an urgent email today repeating that desks need to be four feet apart from the center of one desk to the center of the other . . . which means from corner to corner, there has to be twenty-four inches.  At first, I thought it was a math test prep question (and I didn't know the answer), but it was actually serious.  Geesh.  Yuck.  My desks are still in table groups because I am exempt.  And I'm not sure what I would do without all of the chit chat that is the soundtrack of my life, anyway.  Table groups it is.

So, anyway, there's that.

Then, I got a phone call from the doctor's office that I am supposed to go to tomorrow.  And since I disclose EVERYTHING on here, I might as well tell you.  

Don't freak out.

I'm fine.

I had a mammogram.  

I know!!!  I am WAY TOO YOUNG to have one.  Or I look too young to have one.  Or surely not!  (I'll take whatever compliment you want to give me.)  But, as you know, I'm special.  We've talked about this before.  I do not have normalcy when it comes to my body and the parts therein.

This was my third mammogram.  And they are always inconclusive.  

I have what they like to call . . . ahem.  Cough.  Sputter.  Dense Breast Tissue.

Let's just say this . . . they may be tiny but they are mighty.

So . . . this means I have to have an ultrasound.

I'm going to write that again with a little more enthusiasm.

I get to have an ultrasound!!!  AGAIN!  I can't wait!

My mammogram was back in February.  I've been waiting for the ultrasound since then.  I made plans.  Got a sub.  For the whole day because the appointment is smack dab in the middle of the day so I can't take a half day.  But I used my noggin.  I will be near my hair stylist's so I thought I'd kill one bird with two stones (I really don't like birds, but I don't think I would kill one with stones.  Or rocks.  Or a gun.  I would just run screaming the other way.)  I was ALL SET to be off tomorrow.  

You know where this is going, right?

I got a phone call today.  The message said my appointment is cancelled because there will be no doctors there.  And the next available appointment is at the end of May.  Please call back.

I couldn't call back.  I was taking away a lego from a kid teaching an amazing lesson.  

Meanwhile, I got another phone call.

This message was confirming my appointment for tomorrow.


I felt annoyed.  But I wanted to react calmly.  Nicely.  I mean, whoever was answering the phone was not at fault.  They don't know that I am a teacher and I got a sub and made a hair appointment and rearranged my tutoring and I have dark roots and I wanted to sleep in and I worked all five days last week and I wanted to stay up late and I told Sydney I would be home with her in the morning and and and . . .

I explained the "situation" to the scheduler.  She repeated that yes, the appointment is cancelled, and yes, the next appointment isn't until the end of May.

This could only mean one thing.  So I said what I was thinking.

"Obviously, whatever you saw on my mammogram back in February is nothing.  Right?  It's okay to put this off until the end of May because it's nothing serious, right?"

She put me on hold.

And, oh, I don't know . . . thirty minutes later, I magically have an appointment for tomorrow somewhere in another location far away.   


I know I'm fine.  I just think I scared the scheduler.  I don't know.  Maybe it came out like a threat even though I didn't intend it . . . I don't really know how to threaten people.  

You better get me an appointment or I'm going to blog about it!

You better get me an appointment or I'm going to eat some ice cream!

You better get me an appointment or I'm going to have a Cadbury mini egg!


When I got home, I had a jury summons waiting for me.

Some of you already clicked out of this post in fear that it's coming for you next.  I understand.

I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure jury duty caused my heart condition.

That was my Monday.

As for tomorrow, I will be topless.



I am so happy that it is Saturday and that I made it through my first week back from break.  Or, more importantly, yesterday.

Here's what I went through on Friday.

It rained.  Hard.  And the wind blew.  Hard.  I've talked about our open school format before.  It's open.  I open my door and then I have to walk outside to get anywhere.  Anywhere!  We were inside all day which meant the peculiar phenomenon of students having to use the restroom way-too-often occurred, and has led me to conclude and diagnose my entire class with urinary tract infections.   I have never wanted a bathroom inside my classroom, but I am beginning to rethink that idea.

Towards the end of our day, it began to thunder.  


But not as loud as the two kids in my class who completely lost all sense of themselves and fell apart.  

It didn't matter to them that I grew up in Oklahoma and survived tornadoes.  Sort of.  I mean, we had the siren in our own backyard, practically.  And I remember crowding into the downstairs bathroom and running out of room for my dad (which made us all crack up and broke a lot of the tension).  And another time, I sat in a friend's hallway and her dad insisted we keep our shoes on.  (that one still makes us laugh today)  However, neither of those stories made my two over-the-top-scared-out-of-their-wits- kids laugh.  HUH?  It also didn't matter to them that I was a teeny tiny teacher who rescues people.  Nope.  We smelled the soup so much that I have now completely cleared my nasal cavities.  Interestingly enough, both of these kiddos are twins and their siblings are in my partner's class.  So I did a quick check and I was right.  Their siblings were fine.  I stole the calm twins and made them come sit with my hysterical ones.  Just for the record, I would have been the emotional twin and Kerry would have had to sit with me.  It makes complete and total sense that these particular twins are in my class.

I really wanted to tell them that my niece and nephews were in lock down last week because an actual tornado was in their midst, but I refrained.  Seriously, though, these kids have no clue.  NO CLUE.  And you poor Texas teachers who had to stay with your kids on lockdown PAST dismissal time . . . you deserve a medal.

(I will not talk about the parents who started pulling their kids out an hour before dismissal.  I will not.  I mean, it was very loud thunder.  Storm Watch 2012 and all that.)

Our dismissal happened at the peak of the thunderstorm.  It was mass chaos.  Not to mention that we had just done construction on the ramp we use to go out the front so we had to take the LONG way.  Of course.  I had pick up duty.  At the circle.  Where the cars come.  Where the kids wait.  In the rain.  The rain that was sideways.  My umbrella didn't matter.  At one point, I was a little nervous that I might fly away.  

Yes.  I know I am lucky to be able to wear Uggs to school.  I am.  But this is the first time that they did not protect me.  They soaked right through.  I was wet.  I didn't take a picture of myself, but if you have ever seen a wet dog, now you know what I looked like.

I swam back to my classroom, loaded up EVERY SINGLE THING that I have to accomplish this weekend, and left (which I never do).  When I got home, the hubby opened the door for me and said he'd already started a bath.  I wuver him. 

On a completely different note, we watched last week's Amazing Race episode.  I don't know if you watch or not, but this part is amusing to me.  One of the teams is made up of two female federal agents.  But they don't want anyone to know that so they told the other teams that they are Kindergarten teachers.  Well, this episode showed that all of the teams are becoming suspicious.  Because, in their opinion, teachers are "friendly, social, and bouncy."  Bouncy!  :)  And these chicks aren't.  I asked my husband if anyone would doubt my teacher status and he said absolutely not.  I am pretty sure the waitress at the Cheesecake Factory wouldn't doubt it, either.  

I finally have some Adjective Cards for you.  They are bundled with my nouns and verbs over at my TpT store.  Click the pic to go see them!  Thank you for all of your support this week - I love you guys!!!
Have a great Saturday!  I have so much work to do . . . but I will be with PJ and some Reality TV while I accomplish it so I can't complain too much.  


12 on the 12th

I am FINALLY joining Kacey's Linky Party because I FINALLY remembered to take pictures today!

Hadar got a new app called Pic Collage so I got it, too.  I'm a follower.  Of blogs AND apps now, apparently.  It looks pretty cool and I was all set to use it for today . . . and then I realized I need to talk about each picture as you see it.  So I'm doing it the old fashioned way.  Because I am old.  Not so much in fashion, though.  

I got up at 5:15 and "worked out".  I am putting that in quotes because I can't exactly get my heart rate up too high so it's more of a work in.  Or a work up.  I don't know.  I do some abs.  And then I do the oldest Kathy Ireland dvd you have ever seen.  In fact, it used to be a VCR tape and then a friend of mine used her burning software to make it a DVD for me.  I have been doing it since January and now I have the whole thing memorized.  Down to the "Good job!  Three more!" and "You can do it!  And one and two and three and four."  Now I usually watch a show and go through the motions.  (We need a new belt for our treadmill so I can't use it right now)

Then I had my quiet time.  My small group is doing A Purpose Driven Life.  The hubs and I have actually done it before, but no one in our group has.  It's good.  I like it.  That's International Delight Cinnabon Creamer with coffee in my mug.

This is Sydney.  She wouldn't look at me.  She was upset that I was leaving her for the day.  We do this EVERY SINGLE DAY.  Heaven forbid I go to school and earn money to buy her the jerky treats she loves so much.

 One of my teammates "whipped" this up as a little art project to go along with our Pioneers unit/Open House theme.  We're going to make it part of a scrapbook.  CUTE!  The rest of us on the team did lots of squealing.

We sorted buttons today for our math lesson.  The kids were thrilled.  I just gave them a handful.  But it was like I had given them a million dollars.  Or candy.  The best part was that I was able to put buttons under the Ladybug Document Camera and have my kids guess the sorting rule.  OH MY WORD.  Dot (that's what I'm calling her) is amazing.  UH-MAZING.

I tutored today.  And my little kiddo forgot to take something very important that will help her focus.  And she was all-over-the-place. And under the table.  And near the trash can.  And stuffing goldfish in her mouth so she wouldn't be able to answer questions.  It was a LONG hour.  But I love her.  Dearly.  So I gave her some candy.

The hubby is HOME!!!  He was on a trip (you know I'm not allowed to tell you before or while he is gone because he fears cyber killers) and he is finally home.  :)  That's another reason why I've been so tired this week because I haven't been sleeping well.  Anyways, yes, that is a camoflauge suitcase.  Boys.

 I got into these pajamas immediately after saying hello to the hubby.  Or maybe I did this first.  Or maybe I was actually wearing them all day today.  Hmmm.

We ordered in.  Pick Up Stix.  This is Sesame Chicken.  YUM.  YUM.  YUM.  This beats the cereal, noodles, frozen pizzas for one, and wine that I was surviving on.

I have some work to do tonight.  I have to make that one-room house sample for myself.  And I have to go over third trimester writing assessments.  Math tests.  Stuff.  You know, the usual.
I will watch some of this while I do that teacher stuff.  Look at all of that reality.  I had to record the Today show for the Ashley Judd interview (puffy face) and for the two 13 year old boys that saved everyone on their school bus when their driver had a heart attack.  I heard Ann Curry tease both stories while I was getting ready this morning.  They were good teasers.  I debated calling in sick.  But I didn't.  I've got Tivo.  One of my closest friends.

This will be last.  I have been getting into bed about 9:30 each night and reading until about 11:00.  I can't put this book down!!!!  Have you read it?  Let's just say I don't want this one to be a movie because there's a lot of people getting beat up.   On the other hand, I am okay with all of the killing in The Hunger Games.   

That's my 12.  Don't forget to link up with Kacey!

I'm off to do my work and watch a little Reality.  :)


I've Got Nothing

I did not blog yesterday.  

But I am okay.

I did not have a heart attack over THE UPHEAVAL on Monday.

I have no news.  None.  The rumors are flying.  Swirling.  One of the 5th grade teachers said he heard I was coming up to teach with him.  

He was joking.

I think.  It's hard to tell because he was the only one laughing.

Our principal said she would try to let us know by Friday which really means next week or the week after . . . or sometime before the new school year begins.  One can hope.

Anyways, I'm super tired.  I was working on some adjective cards to share with you, but then I stopped.  Then I thought I'd share some Graphing papers for centers (or whatever) with you because that's the math we're working on right now.  Data and Graphs.  Topic 17.  LOVE IT.  Even my kids who typically struggle in math are successful with Data and Graphs.

I was going to say my low kids, but is that wrong?  Which reminds me that during our PTT meeting today, our topic of discussion was "Test Pollutants".  Yep.  It was riveting.  I was on the edge of my seat the entire time.  The best part???  We got to write down the pollutants and possible solutions on chart paper!  My favorite!

Anywho . . . one of the upper grade levels put a Sweet and Low packet on their chart paper.  As in, their "sweet and low" students have anxiety about The Test and a possible solution is give them some iced tea.  Wait.  I think I may have that wrong.  At any rate, I really liked the Sweet and Low packet.  It was cute.  It wasn't clipart, but it was creative.  And I have some "sweet and lows" in my class.  So I got it.

This is all to say that I am tired.  I did not upload the graphs to share with you.  It was too many buttons.  And PTT wore me out.  Coming back from Spring Break is just too tiring.  Walking around all day?  In regular street clothes?  Need I say more?

So I don't have a freebie for you.  And I intended to give you one because you all were so sweet about THE UPHEAVAL.  THO THWEET!  Really.  I just love that I was able to put all that out there and get back such great support.  Like a good bra.  Not that I need one.   

I'll come back later this week or on the weekend with something for you.  As a little thank you.  Because I mean it when I say how much your comments and prayers and fingers-crossed and good vibes and chocolate and wine (on my part) have meant to me.  

Before I go, did you read about Farley's spots?  It's an important message and I think you should read it.  Really.  Think of it as the main show and everything that I've written in this post up to now is just the commercial.  

After you read about it, you can catch a rerun of my spot story {HERE}.  Can we do that?  Can we have reruns?   



I had to go back to school today after a two week Spring Break.  The hubby was not sympathetic AT ALL.  But I know you all are.  Because you understand.

I survived.  My kids were happy to see me.  I gave everyone a chance to share something about their vacation.  Here's just a general list of what I was told:

I went to Disneyland.
I went to Hawaii.
I went to Florida.
I went to Disneyland.
I went to Sea World.
I had a sleepover.
I went to Arizona.
I went to Disneyland.
I went on the biggest Easter egg hunt ever and I found every-single-egg (I think this one was a bit of an exaggeration).
I went to my cousins.
I went to Disneyland.

One little sweetie asked me where I went.

I said, "The Cheesecake Factory!"  And they oohed and aahed.

And then I told them that they were spoiled rotten.  Luckily, no parent phone calls or emails about that yet.

Before I saw my little stinkers, I saw my principal.  She had my letter of intent.  As in, do I intend to keep my job next year and, if so, I need to drive myself to the district office by a certain date and sign it in front of them . . . at this point, I don't know what else she said because I was already driving like a maniac on my way to the district office. (insert Roadrunner sound effect here)

Not really.

I stayed.  I will go to the District Office on another day.  When I have all the time in the world to do so.   You know, between now and the end of the year.  I'm sure I'll have gobs of time while I work on progress reports, assessments, new open house theme, class play, awards assemblies, PTA luncheons, etc.  No worries there.

In other words, I stuck around for the rest of what my principal had to say.

First, she looked sad.  Then she tilted her head.  And she pursed her lips a little.

Uh oh, I thought.  Stand still.  Don't make any sudden movements.  

She sighed heavily.  "We're going to have to lose a first grade teacher."

I already knew this.  Oh no.  She's telling me this because it's me.  She's moving me.  I am leaving first grade.  Panic!  FREAK OUT!  Heart palpitations!  Blood rushing to face!  I am going to pass out right here in front of her!  I don't----

"First, I'll ask for volunteers," she continued.

Wait.  It's not me.  Phew.  Breathe.  Rearrange facial features to show I am calm.  As calm as a teacher can be on the first day back, and after drinking so much coffee that I used my own energy to start my car.  (Am I the only one who thinks everything is about me?)

And wait just a second.  Volunteers?  Who would DO that?  And what are we volunteering for?  

"If I can't get a volunteer, I'll have to make a hard decision."  She tilted her head the other way.  "And that will be really difficult because I love all of my first grade teachers."

She waited.

Oh!  My turn!  I should say something.  Anything!

"I understand," I said.  Smiled.  Nodded.  

And then I hightailed it out of there.

Come to find out, we're pretty sure this would mean going to FIFTH GRADE.  We have a teacher retiring there and that's the only open spot that we can see.  And let's be honest . . . my team spent a good portion of our prep time going over "the numbers" instead of getting ready for these kiddos that we hadn't seen in two weeks.  Priorities, people.  I'm all about it.

I will not be volunteering.  OBVIOUSLY.  DUH.

If I DO get moved, I will have to get a math tutor immediately.  And possibly a Science and Social Studies one.  And then I will need to enter Clipart Rehab as soon as possible.  And lastly, I will need to begin Growth Hormone pills now.  Like, yesterday.  This is, of course, if I do not end up in the mental ward first.

FIFTH GRADE?  FIFTH GRADE?!  My hat goes off to you.  Well, I'm not actually wearing one, but if I were, I'd take it off.

Kinder?  I could do it.  I could.  I've even thought about it.  

Second Grade?  Okay.  Deep breath.  Okay.  I'll miss teaching beginning reading but okay.  

Infinity and Beyond?  No thanks, Buzz Lightyear.

Bummer . . . 

PS  I am really not worrying about this.  I gave it to God.  He is in charge.  But you know me -- I have to tell you everything about my day.  Minute by minute.  

I had a chicken salad sandwich for lunch, by the way.